


Another Second Chance

by galactic-pirates (stillsearching47)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillsearching47/pseuds/galactic-pirates
Summary: Written forA Monthly Rumbelling: February. Set in the wish!World of6.10 - Wish You Were Here. Rumplestiltskin hadn't known that they would capture him, that he would survive on nothing but his magic for thirty years. Driven half-mad he stumbles back to the Dark Castle and the only thing that can soothe his tattered soul, which is also the one thing he believes he doesn't deserve - true love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Belle has the dagger and Rumple takes it back.
> 
> This doesn’t contain any information from 6.11 *sticks fingers in ears and hums loudly* and while it's kinda angsty it ends hopeful because I like my happy endings. Enjoy!

Thirty years was a long time.

Anyone else might have gone mad. Rumplestiltskin tittered to himself, his eyes gleaming madly in the dim light of the dungeon. _‘Anyone else ...’_ was such a lie because of course he’d gone mad. He’d gone mad with rage, he’d gone mad with grief, he’d gone mad from the isolation and the bitter loneliness, he’d gone mad from the price magic demanded of his survival when he was forgotten down here. He might be the Dark One but he was still a man. A man who hadn’t had a breath of fresh air, or seen the sunlight, or seen another human being in years.

The treachery of the Queen, oh and what a disappointment Regina had turned out to be, had led to his capture. Regina had been banished soon afterwards and he’d been forgotten, left to survive on nothing but his magic. Well he’d _almost_ been forgotten. All his plans for the dark curse had fallen to ruin, and he’d given into despair, certain that he would never see Bae again. Then, miraculously, after over a decade there had been the sound of a shoe scraping on the dungeon floor and Bae had appeared outside his bars.

At first Rumplestiltskin had believed it was a hallucination, he’d had them over the years. Some were just in his mind, others were conjured by his magic, as he didn’t have anyone to talk to but himself. However, Bae was no illusion and he had still been so very angry. Bae hadn’t let him talk, and truthfully his thoughts had been too scrambled to really do anything but plead with Bae, but his beloved boy wouldn’t listen. Bae thought that he deserved to be locked up and had disappeared, never to return.

King David, the _shepherd_ , in an act of cruelty or compassion, Rumplestiltskin had never been able to decide which, had come to inform him personally of Bae’s death. The time afterwards was a blur of pain and rage, his magic lashing out at himself because it was his fault, his fault, his fault! He hadn’t been there to protect Bae and Bae was dead, and dead was dead. Magic can do much but it couldn’t bring back the dead.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin breathed, his words barely a whisper on the tepid dungeon air.

He had left her. He had told her that he would be right back. His foresight had always been spotty at best and he had sensed danger, but he had thought it had been to her - not to him, never to him. Rumplestiltskin whimpered, he had left his dagger with Belle for protection. He would have given anything to keep her safe, even the knowledge of how to control him. His Belle, his true love, would never use such knowledge against him. Her face had screwed up in abhorrence at the thought of such control. She had radiated such disgust at the idea that he knew he could safely leave the dagger in her hands.

If that is what he had done, then nothing would likely have worked out differently for him, but _everything_ would have been different for Belle. His dagger was the source of his power, he had used it to anchor the wards which protected the Dark Castle. He had made them impassable for anyone that wasn’t a Dark One; not just to get in, but to leave as well. He had trapped Belle and it had been _thirty_ years. If he’d had _any_ idea, then he _never_ would have done it. He’d just wanted to keep her safe and she had agreed, but it was only supposed to have been for a little while.

Even as his own isolation had driven him mad, he’d worried about Belle and how she was coping alone. Belle liked spending time by herself, or with the company of a good book, but she also craved good conversation. Thirty years was a long time. It was too long. His magic kept him alive, and made him immortal - he hadn’t aged a day. If Belle was still alive, and on his darkest days he imagined otherwise, then she would be thirty years older. He’d promised her a life together, and instead she hadn’t even had a life without him.

If only he hadn’t secured the wards with the dagger. Belle could have left, met someone else and had a good life. The possessive, craven, part of him was selfishly glad that Belle remained his, but that was only a tiny part of his soul. The rest of him just wanted her to be happy, and would gladly have let her go a thousand times because she deserved better than the monster that he was.

He hummed to himself, and cackled, anything to break the silence. He couldn’t take the silence. Down in the dungeons it was so quiet, it was hard to hear the crows cawing and the mice didn’t make enough noise to be worth it. Their pathetic little squeaks, or the skittering of the cockroaches, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough. Thirty years - thirty years! It had been thirty years and Bae was dead, and Belle was trapped, and he was stuck behind these thrice-damned fairy spelled bars.

His fault, all his fault, always his fault.

“There you are, come to see old Rumple have you?” He was speaking before his rational mind had even noticed that there was anyone there. “Who are you? Come closer.” He pressed his face against the bars. No-one came here, not ever, nobody, not since the shepherd, not since Bae. “You! The Queen!” he shrieked. “The apprentice is back! Back to see the old master. Back again, back again!”

Regina didn’t look right, she didn’t look like herself and his magic surged. _‘Storybrooke’_ whispered in his mind, a gift from his foresight which owed him so much for it’s failure. Perhaps there was a way out of this cell after all.

*****

_Real or not real? Who was to know._

Rumplestiltskin laughed to himself, as he took in a lungful of fresh clean forest air. He pranced between the trees. He was free, free as a bird, a bird in the trees but he wasn’t real. Nobody was real, nothing was real and yet everything was real. Just because they weren’t real to Regina, didn’t mean that they weren’t real.

“Belle, Belle, Belle,” Rumplestiltskin cried pitching to his knees in the dirt and moss.

True love was real. Belle was real. Bae had been real. All his pain and suffering had been real. If it was the blink of an eye of a wish, didn’t make their lives any less. He staggered to his feet and carelessly waved his hand. Crimson smoke engulfed him and he materialized outside the Dark Castle. It was impenetrable, surrounded by his wards, just as he had left it thirty years ago.

Thirty years, thirty years. He had left her for thirty years.

He could wind back the clock, he knew how. He could make Belle young again. They could still have a life together if she let him, if she still wanted him. Rumplestiltskin stood outside the gates. A tiny bit of magic would bid him entrance but he was afraid. Belle was going to hate him, he knew she was going to hate him because he hated himself. He had left her alone, he had trapped her, he had condemned her to thirty years alone. If she let him wind the clock back, it wouldn’t be so she could have a life with him, it would just be so she could have her life.

Everything he touched he ruined. Bae was dead - his fault. Belle had been trapped and alone - his fault. He was cursed and not because of the power of the Dark One. Belle spoke of _‘doing the brave thing and bravery following’_ but he had never been brave. However, he owed Belle her freedom. She had lost thirty years, and she shouldn’t have to lose a second more.

Rumplestiltskin cringed and stepped forward. The gates parted with a tendril of magic and he grabbed his dagger, ending the enchantment which had supplemented the wards. With a thought he banished the dagger to the vault where it belonged. It wouldn’t be needed. Whatever Belle commanded him to do, he would do willingly, even if it cleaved his heart in two.

“Belle?” Rumplestiltskin called hoarsely as he stepped into the eerily quiet entrance hall.

He glanced around, the castle enchantments to keep the place clean were still working. There wasn’t a speck of dust in the place, no sign that it had been thirty years. A sob caught in his throat, and he screwed his eyes shut and focused. A fond sad smile crossed his face, Belle was in the library, where else? With a wave of his hand he transported there. His heart, blackened miserable organ that it was, skipped a beat seeing Belle laying peacefully on the loveseat he’d brought up. They’d spent many a happy evening snuggled there together.

“Belle, I’m home,” Rumplestiltskin whispered.

The words were so inadequate after so long. For a moment Rumplestiltskin thought that was why Belle didn’t respond. Then he noticed that there was something wrong with this picture. Warily, he took another couple of steps forward. His eyes greedily drinking in the sight of Belle after thirty years of nothing but his memories. _That_ was what was wrong - Belle hadn’t aged a day. She looked the same and that wasn’t possible. Only the Dark One had life eternal.

She wasn’t moving.

Rumplestiltskin collapsed next to her, taking her hand in his dirty claws. The sight turned his stomach. Belle deserved so much better than the monster. “No,” he wailed. Belle was cold, she wasn’t breathing. “No!” he screamed.

Belle only died in his darkest nightmares. She couldn’t be dead. Belle and Bae, he’d lost them both. Both dead, both gone where he couldn’t follow. Except that wasn’t quite right. Rumplestiltskin looked at Belle again. She was perfect, and there were no enchantments on the castle that would have kept her in that state.

“Oh sweetheart,” Rumplestiltskin breathed in sudden understanding.

His clever Belle, she had realized that something had gone wrong and she had ensured that she could wait for him, for however long he would be gone. He had the ingredients in his workroom. She’d put herself under a sleeping curse. For her, it hadn’t been thirty years, it didn’t look like it had been very long at all and Rumplestiltskin felt like weeping in relief. However, he had something far more important to do first - wake his true love.

“I’m home Belle,” Rumplestiltskin whispered.

He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers. Magic pulsed, the spark of true love warmed his heart and soothed his tattered soul. A rainbow filled the air and Belle gasped, taking her first breath in almost thirty years. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, and he didn’t deserve it. Bae was dead, he shouldn’t get another second chance.

“Rumple,” Belle cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too sweetheart,” Rumplestiltskin said thickly, holding her to him probably far too tightly. Tears started falling, he could no more stop them than he could stop the sun from rising and falling. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Rumple?” Belle said questioningly. “How long has it been?”

Rumplestiltskin could hear the dawning knowledge in her voice, she knew before he said a word. She had always been able to read him like a book. “Thirty years. It’s been thirty years.”


End file.
